Triple Six
by Angelic Temptress
Summary: One-shot. She's alone, and she's being sacrificed because she resembles something many humans believe to be holy. WARNING: If anything dealing w the Bilble offends you, don't read. This story is just a creation from the sick & twisted part of my head. HG


"Triple Six"

By: The Angelic Temptress

Disclaimer: Obviously, they aren't mine. If they were, I wouldn't have to write fanfiction.

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: None really

DDD

The aroma of burning incense and the stench of death filled her nostrils, calling upon a gagging reflex. She tried to open her eyes, but the act was difficult. It took a good minute to do as her brain requested. And when they complied, she almost wished they hadn't.

Her eyes strained to see in the dim light but noted the pews situated before her; the moonlight cascading through the stained glass windows helped.

She was in a church.

The beautiful but badly bruised woman lowered her gaze and studied herself. Her scarcely clad body had been suspended before the alter; her arms were shackled above her head, and she could barely feel the pain of her shoulders. It was if she had lost all the feeling in her body.

A red pentagram had been painted just below her dangling bare feet, and the cold bodies of two priests and two nuns lay in a strait line before the first set of pews. Now the urge to vomit seemed even more appealing.

"Good morning, Sunshine," a man's voice greeted. The phrase sent shivers down her spine; she recalled a former lover who used it often.

She moistened her bruised lips and tasted the blood that had dried on them. For some reason, she couldn't remember how she had gotten herself into the predicament. Had the man captured her by surprise? Or had she willingly turned her body over for its deserved abuse?

The man stepped out of the darkness and leaned against a statue of Christ. He wore a crude smile and possessed devilish brown eyes; the Caucasian male, between the ages of twenty-five and thirty, wore black but appeared rather well off. If she had passed him on the street, she wouldn't have labeled him a kidnapper.

The woman sent the man a glare, which would have set his body aflame if looks could kill, and spit onto the floor. "What do you want with me?"

"Well, I figured your God would have already told you. I guess not." He glanced at the statue and gave a small chuckle. "Those of your kind are like vermin; even to Him, you're half-breeds. Not exactly human but not entirely god-like either."

Her green eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He chortled and slightly shook his head. "That is the question, isn't it?" The dark-haired man strolled closer to the hanging female, eyeing her partially exposed body. "You know, the Texts always did say you angels were magnificent creatures but failed to state you could be beautiful as well." A freezing index finger ran along the line of her stomach.

She did nothing to prevent it.

"I am a Thanagarian. Not an angel."

"Now, now… Don't lie. Isn't that one of the seven sins?" His smile widened as she watched him pull a dagger from his coat pocket. "I almost wish you'd be going to Heaven when this is all over, but it won't happen. Your soul will belong to Satan himself." He rolled up his right sleeve, revealing a scar on his wrist.

_666_

"You're insane."

The unknown man laughed again and pressed the cold steel to her stomach. She felt it pierce the skin and gasped when it did.

"I'm just cutting you enough so the blood will drain to the floor during the rest of the night. When I come back to the _abandoned _church, your angelic blood will have dripped onto the symbol. I'll light a couple of candles and say a few prayers, and you'll be the sacrifice for my Lord."

The metal continued down a deep path that stopped just below her navel, deep enough to kill her within several hours if someone didn't find her.

She winced when the man licked some of the blood from her abdomen and then began to scratch a line into both her legs.

Although she knew she could kick him away, her limbs didn't obey. Inside, her soul didn't want to try.

Before leaving, the man whispered, "See you in Hell."

An hour passed, and she could feel the color draining from her face.

Then she heard _his_ voice.

"Shayera!" he yelled as he ran to her. His glowing eyes held compassion for her bleak soul, and she pitied him for pitying her. "Who did this to you?"

"I don't know," Shayera muttered as her rescuer used his ring to quickly cut the chains above her head. She fell into his arms, immediately welcoming his familiar warmth.

"We need to get you to the Watch–"

A gunshot.

His voice got caught it his throat, and he swallowed hard.

"John?"

He grabbed onto her for support with blood slipping from his mouth, and they both fell to the floor of the church.

"Damn him! Your human friend ruined it!" her kidnapper screamed, and she heard footsteps fade away. He wasn't coming back.

"John?" Tears clouded her eyes as she gently touched his face. "John?" Shayera ran her gaze over his chest and found a dark circle of blood. "Hold on, John. Please hold on."

The Green Lantern she had fallen in love with so many years ago forced a smile and caressed her face in return. He coughed and mumbled, "We need to stop meeting like this."

"Save it, John. We need to get help."

With his eyes closed, he took in a deep breath and disagreed. "No… It's too late."

"Tell J'onn to beam us up."

"No…" A tear escaped his right eye when he looked at her. "I just wanted to tell you… I love you. Last time, you flew off before I could."

"Don't do this." Wishing he had worn his emerald aura, her hot tears rolled down her face as a trembling hand covered the red stain on his black and green uniform. John had carelessly left his guard down… because he was too worried about her.

His hand covered her bloody one, and he gave it a slight squeeze. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry." She forgot about her wounds, so they no longer ached. Carefully, she molded her body against his; her arms, though weak, held him close. Shy couldn't allow him to die alone.

Her fingers felt her lover's heart slow; her soul felt his slip away from her as his body cooled.

She didn't bother contacting the others; she didn't want to explain what had happened to any of them, especially Vixen. Shayera just wanted to die along side her hero.

Her true love.

Unfortunately, Superman found the mourning angel too soon, and she once again didn't get what she wanted.

That night, Shayera Hol slept in the medical bay alone, though her eyes never even closed.

End

DDD


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